


A Sea of White, Stained by Red

by DieZeitVergeht



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:40:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DieZeitVergeht/pseuds/DieZeitVergeht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're just too preoccupied with your scars, your 'metal-friends'...the only family you have left. Major major trigger warnings. Brittana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sea of White, Stained by Red

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm back again! So yeah...this is obviously not what I normally write, but idk. It's been one of those days. This is also a recycled work back from my senior year of high school. I'm not sure about it, but I had a person pretty dear to me encourage me to post it.

\\\

You turn around and see an empty room. Voices play through your head as you attempt to find the mind you've previously lost. Where are they coming from? Why are they here? …or are they here? You listen to the words, repeating over again. But are they words? You cannot tell. Too much noise, it consumes your presence, it confuses your brain. You're going crazy and you're all alone. Why isn't anyone around to help you? Where have they gone…?

"They've all left you. They don't want you anymore. You mean nothing to them. You mean nothing to her. You are just a lousy good-for-nothing who doesn't do anything right. You have no friends. You've never had any friends. She always lies – lied – to you. She doesn't love you, you aren't her love. She wants you dead." You scribble those words down upon the sheet of paper staring back at you in your notebook. Your handwriting is neat, precise, not the scratchy scrawl of those of your – of your – no…you have no friends, no family; or so you tell yourself.

In reality, your family, your friends, they're all worried sick about you; she's worried about you. You're just too preoccupied with your scars, your 'metal-friends;' you don't notice the worried glances you cause. You don't notice the fleeting stares from your (once) best friend – your lover, the only family you've ever really known, the only family you have left.

In the back of your mind, a small voice is telling you that you're loved by her. The larger voice however, it overpowers that miniscule reasoning. It's telling you to ruin your life, it's laughing in your face after you carve scar after scar into anywhere that can't be seen. It is the reason you have no self-control anymore. It's the mortar for the wall you're building high in the sky. You've become trapped as the wall molds into a square box. What have you done? There's just one more brick, one more spot to place it…this is the small voice again. It's keeping you sane, keeping the air running through your box, keeping that small hope that you'll make it out alive.

You know that you just have to throw the brick. The mortar hasn't yet set, you can break it down again; become the person you used to be! You call out for help, but the words don't escape the cascading darkness as you reach above your head to place the last brick. It's in place. What can you do now?

You're too weak to fight the walls as they constrict around you. You want that super strength you've known from the comics and the movies. You want your best friend. She was the person who kept you alive, she was the reason you stood tall. Where is she now? Oh right, you pushed her away, just like everyone else that has ever been close to you. She was the last to go, for she fought the hardest. But now you realize you want her back. You'll do anything to get her back.

There are nights you find your phone resting in your hand or on your bed, not abnormal. However, more often than not, you've typed a familiar ten digit number into your handheld device. You so long to press the call button; you've missed the sound of her voice. You've missed the playful tone that brightened her voice and put a smile on both yours and her face as the two of you joked 'til night blossomed into morning.

Tonight, there is no difference. It's as though you've made it a nightly ritual. 11:11 on the dot, your fingers move as though a wind has swept them across the dial pad. Alas, tonight it is dissimilar. You see her smile, you hear her laugh, and the phrase "I love you, best friend" runs rapid through your head. A long moment passes; you've pressed dial.

This situation is foreign. You don't know what to make of it. You quickly inhale as the voice you've missed too much speaks. Her voice is breaking; you can hear the tears welling up in her eyes as she tries over and over again to hear your voice. A single drop of water falls from your eye; yet another foreign situation arising because you haven't felt emotion for so long. Another falls, followed by more until you're in full hysterics.

You can hear the smile in her tone as she soothes you down, just like old times. You hear the comfort, the love…the relief. She knows you're human and not the alien you've been parading around as for the past few months. "Shhh," she soothes, "it'll be alright."

You can't stop crying. You try to talk, but words don't form; you don't know what to say. After being mute for months, the sensation of forming words and speaking has become a foreign affair. Moments pass, you're crying and she's trying with all her might to calm you down as she once was able to do. "I'm sorry," you croak out. Before she has the time to answer, you hang up with no further reasoning.

You aren't off the hook, you've let yourself become weak (or so you tell yourself). She sends you a text. After you don't answer, she sends another and another. Its way past midnight, you wonder how she's still awake ("she's been worried about you. She hasn't gotten sleep. Haven't you seen the bags under her eyes?" your subconscious reasoning tells you).

"How did you let this happen? How did you let yourself break to that state of such emotion? This has ruined everything!" says the overpowering voice. Yet, this time you're reasoning isn't unheard! You rejoice in the feelings of happiness, (happiness adj. - feeling pleasure: feeling or showing pleasure, contentment, or joy) a sentiment of your past.

You inhale a deep, cleansing breath. You exhale in a rhythmic meter connecting your once was to your now is. In again, then out; continuing your pattern. For one night you are – what is the word? – happy. You fall into a deep slumber not too long later.

What is happening? Your world has gone white. You're sitting on white. What's that? Crimson is seeping through as though the white was mere cloth. You look down for you cannot move your arms. Both wrists have been slit, so deep that you see bone. You scream out in horror and pain as the wound lengthens, it's cascading upwards on your forearm. As your mind starts fading, you see an angel up above. But why is that face so familiar, you ask yourself. And you know now that your best friend is there to save you. She calls out your name; once, twice. You figured it would have been fading, except you are mistaken.

You jolt up in your bed, only to hear a voice calling out your name. You look around, yet no one is in your room. Then you realize you must have called your best friend amidst your dreaming state. And the emotion smacks you directly in the face once more. You're sobbing for the second time that night. Your head is beginning to pound, but you don't feel an ounce of pain. Your life-saver has come…that doesn't stop you though.

Once more (possibly the last time), your overbearing thoughts cloud your clearing mind. Grunting in pain, your best friend realizes what event is taking place. You barely hear her voice breaking in agony as the blood trickles down your arm. You hear the faint click of her hanging up the phone before everything is gone.

You're tired, you're sore, you're numb. Why are you numb? It's only been a few minutes, but in that time so much has happened. Your sheets are stained with blood, your newest wounds have stopped bleeding, they've been covered by – "wait they've been covered?!" the overpowering thoughts are angry – as you look up, you cannot help but smile as you see the face of your best friend. She really has saved your life this time. She's not smiling, but as she sees the silly grin on your face, it is only a matter of time before she is too. As quick as it had come, the smile had disappeared and that's when you knew you were in trouble.

She wants to scold you and you realize that. With your uninjured arm, you hold your hand up to her mouth. Clearing your throat, you attempt to speak.

*cough*

"I-I'm…"

*cough*

"I'm sorry. You have…ev-every…"

*cough*

"Every…"

At once, she retaliates and covers your mouth. She knows you aren't fit for talking.

She removes your hand from her mouth and shakes her head. "There is no need for talking." She has changed her mind, for now realizing all you need is her presence. She carefully encases you into a soft hug.

With soothing tones, you're falling into slumber once again. Held in the arms of your best friend, you've begun a new life.

Your last thoughts before darkness consumed you once more was, "goodnight my best friend, goodnight my lover. You have saved my life, so I must thank you by staying alive…if only I could tell you this now, but you never have to live without me again. I will get better, I will be the best friend I should have been, and I will be me again. I will be me for you again."

With a soft kiss placed upon your forehead and a whisper of "I love you, I'm never leaving you again," you fall into a content sleep once more. No nightmares, this time you've got your best friend fighting them away. And you couldn't thank her more.

~/~

A/N: Thanks, I hope you didn't hate it too much.


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